I thought I’d have some fun today. With both my palate and my perceptions. Could I create something from nothing? Well what I mean to say is could I create something from a lot less than nothing? Could I make something creative and delicious using SPAM?

Sesame Marinated SPAM Sliders with Quail Egg and Gingered Mayonnaise

It's easy to snub SPAM, but why would you after tasting these little sliders. Marinated in a spicy blend of sesame, soy and chilis, you might be reminded of the Hawaiian snack food masubi. But these little sandwiches are topped with a warm, oozing quail egg and a dollop of gingered mayonnaise– making them something else altogether.

SPAM is not something I buy everyday. Well in fact this is the first time I ever bought SPAM. Not that I haven’t eaten SPAM before. I have eaten and I recall liking it. Of course that may have been 30 or more years ago.

Well as soon as I had that block shaped blue can in my hands some repressed SPAM memories came flooding back. SPAM chunks in mac-n-cheese. That’s what I immediately thought of. Obviously I was served SPAM and blue box macaroni as a child.

But it was the sound that surprised me the most, ker-lunk-click. That’s the sound the top makes when you use your thumb and forefinger and pry open the special pull-tab top that defines SPAM packaging. The sound was one thing– metallic and false. I began to feel like I was making a mistake because the next sensory perception was aroma. I was beginning to worry that my experiment into SPAM would end badly.

“I doubt whether the world holds for anyone a more soul-stirring surprise than the first adventure with ice cream”- Heywood Broun

This post is not really about ice cream, but in the second photo a young Chris Grove of Nibble Me This seems to be embracing what will become a lifelong passion. The joy of food and the strength of family. In the photo his dad seems to be working hard to bring Chris this joy. What a gift. The kind of gift that only a potent combination of summer and childhood can bring. GREG

I grew up in the sweet sticky heat of Florida summers.  I was literally “toes in the sand, head in the clouds” before I learned to walk.

I was raised in the “middle class dream” of block houses, lawn chairs, picnic tables, and family cook outs.  We spent our weekends at the YMCA and the beach.  My dad hand-churned ice cream in the backyard on summer afternoons.

Once I could walk, I beat the summer heat by getting out early and spending my mornings exploring the wide world known as “our lawn”.   I would chase anoles (lizards indigenous to Florida, not Aholes, which are indigenous to most highways).  I tried mimicking the birds that sang out to see if I could trick them into replying.  I watched ants as they busied themselves building their mounds.  I built forts for my plastic army men and streets for my Matchbox cars in my sand pit. 

But the one constant to my summer days was just about the time it was getting too hot outside, my mom would call me inside for lunch.